


How Could You?

by PinkPenguinParade



Series: Short prompt fills [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: "betrayal", Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Community: Good Omens Fic Writers Workshop, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Prompt Fill, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:28:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29945181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkPenguinParade/pseuds/PinkPenguinParade
Summary: He tasted the air.No. No no no…“Hang on, angel. I need to check something.”That scent… that meanttrouble.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Short prompt fills [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2182974
Comments: 12
Kudos: 28
Collections: Good Omens Fic Writers Workshop: Weekly Prompts, Guess the Author: Round 3





	How Could You?

**Author's Note:**

> GOFWW Guess The Author, Prompt "Betrayal"
> 
> Now the anonymity is up, Thanks so much to UnproblematicMe for the prompt and RedundantAngel for agreeing/attempting to wrangle us through another one of these!

He smelled like Aziraphale. 

Crowley woke up and the world was new and he smelled like Aziraphale. 

He lay in bed in morning sunlight, wrapped in his angel, skin on skin on skin--an infinite recursion of touch that still wasn’t enough. The room smelled like him, like Aziraphale, like _them,_ and the world was new. 

Hell would have harsh words, he was sure, but Hell could fuck right off. Heaven, too (the vision of Gabriel condemning his angel rose behind his eyes, and he leaned farther in--buried his face into softness, dug his nose into the sensitive skin behind an angel’s ear and breathed the scent of them until it faded, faded, broke apart entirely). 

“Mmmm. Dearest.” Stout strong arms circled him; fingers traced his spine, flattened over the curve of hip, curled into lean muscle. 

“Morning,” he mouthed into angelic flesh. He could stay there forever, touching and touching and touching. 

“Breakfast?” 

Maybe not forever. Eventually Aziraphale would get up, and he would follow--wherever the angel wanted to go, he would go. 

“Out? Don’t have much in just now.” He’d have to move, sometime, but he wasn’t in a hurry. 

Aziraphale stretched. “Mmmmm. In, I think. I’m perfectly happy with toast, but I’m going to get a little rumbly in my tumbly soon.”

Crowley shifted enough to laugh. “I’ve fallen in love with Winnie the Pooh!” 

“I do love my honey.” Aziraphale pulled Crowley’s hips in with careless, intoxicating strength. 

“That’s terrible,” Crowley said, but he’d be a fool to resist so he didn’t. 

Aziraphale laughed. “Yes,” he said, and took a breath. 

Whatever he might have said was forgotten, though. “That smells _lovely!”_

“It’s us,” Crowley said, thinking, _It’s you._

“No. I know what you smell like. This is… oh, it’s wonderful!”

He tasted the air. _No. No no no…_ “Hang on, angel. I need to check something.” 

He slithered out of bed, ignoring Aziraphale’s whine, donning jeans with a hurried miracle. He wouldn’t bother but that scent… that meant _trouble,_ and he wasn’t going to meet it naked. 

The hallway held no visitor--human, hellish, or heavenly. 

“Oh, no. No. You didn’t. You _didn’t!”_

Aziraphale padded out. “Crowley? Is everything all right?”

“What did you do?!”

“What?” Aziraphale looked around, radiantly delighted. “Oh, they’re _enchanting!”_

“They’re TRAITORS, is what they are!” He glared at the varicolored riot of blooms exploding from his plant room into the hall. “Lousy turncoats, every one! Did you do this?”

“I might have, I suppose. You made me feel, well... divine.” Aziraphale blinked coquettishly, which was a fucking joke considering he was standing there starkers. “They might, perhaps, be reacting to my… well. But you mustn’t blame them! They’re simply doing their best!”

Crowley took a careful breath. “These plants don’t flower. None of them. I picked them specifically because they don’t flower, and now they’re sprouting flowers.”

“Oh, I see,” said Aziraphale, who clearly didn’t.

“I’ll never get them properly disciplined again. Not now they’ve decided to just grow random reproductive organs and _display_ them everywhere!”

“You mean… like we’re doing?” 

“Right, I--” He stopped. “That is not the same thing!”

“Naturally.” Aziraphale nuzzled his neck. “You smell better.”

He clutched at his fading anger. “I smell like _you.”_

Aziraphale tugged him back toward bed. “I know. It makes me feel... possessive.”

Anger couldn’t compare to a randy angel. “Possessive?”

“Let me show you.”

Disciplining his plants could wait. He glared instead. “This isn’t over!”

Aziraphale laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> Also weekly prompt "Flowers"
> 
> Kudos and comments keep authors going! (comments will not be answered until anonymity expires)


End file.
